Is It Still None of My Business?
by xxliveforever17xx
Summary: Andy's past comes back to haunt her, and only Sam can help her face her demons.
1. Chapter 1

"Tracy…a little help please…" Andy said, her voice muffled from the fabric that covered her face. She was haphazardly trying to take off her sweatshirt, with little luck.

"Officer Nash, Detective Barber wants to see you," Sam said as he walked into the women's locker room.

"Okay, tell him I'll be there in two minutes sir," Tracy replied as she tried to help Andy untangle herself from her sweater.

"No, he wants you now, Nash. Better get a move on, he's cranky today," Sam warned. "I can take over from here," he added, stepping towards the entanglement of limbs and clothing that masked the upper half of his rookie. Tracy put up her hands in surrender and hurried out of the room.

"Wait, Tracy, where are you going?" Andy asked in a frantic voice, trying to claw her way out of the twisted heap of clothes.

"Easy, McNally," Sam said as he began to separate her arms and head from the sweater. After several seconds of struggle, he successfully managed to pull the dark green material off of her.

"Thank you, sir," Andy breathed, her face inches away from his. Sam licked his lips unconsciously.

"You alright, McNally?" he asked teasingly, not moving from his current position. "That was a pretty harrowing escape you just had."

Andy smiled and leaned in slightly closer. "You still hanging around the women's locker rooms, sir?" she asked.

Sam smirked. "You never know when there's gonna be a rookie-in-distress." Andy had to laugh at that one. Nothing else was said. They held each others gazes for what seemed like eternity. Two officers walked by the open entrance way, the sound of their conversation abruptly swinging them back to reality. They both straightened up. Sam coughed.

"So, you gonna tell me who this is or is it still none of my business?" Sam asked, gesturing to the picture stuck on the inside of Andy's open locker.

"He's my cousin," she said, her smile slipping as she turned and started putting on her uniform over her white camisole. Her sudden change of mood was lost on Sam.

"Oh yeah? You guys close?" he asked, examining the photo of the good looking man. Andy pulled her hair back in a loose ponytail.

"We used to be."

"What, you guys have a falling out or something?" he asked, looking back at Andy.

"He's dead," she said in a quiet voice, rummaging through her locker, looking for nothing in particular. Sam was at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, putting a hand on her shoulder, quieting her useless movements. She looked up at him, and he could see the sorrow in her eyes. "How did he die?"

"He saw this prostitute being harassed by this guy, so he went over to try and help her. The guy had a gun, and he was drunk, and he just - " Andy made a gesture of a gun firing - "shot him for 'putting his nose where it don't belong'. Wrong place, wrong time," she sniffed twice, wrinkling her nose. Sam had a strange urge to take her in his arms and comfort her, but refrained from doing so.

"How did you deal with it?" he asked. She looked him straight in the eyes, and he could see a glimmer of defiance.

"I became a cop." She left out the part where she had spiraled down into a temporary heap of alcohol abuse _before_ she had become a cop. Her behavior during the prostitution sting operation was suddenly crystal clear to Sam. Her confusion and obvious discomfort and lack of believability as a hooker made sense now.

"Was that why during the prostitution operation you couldn't...you know..." he trailed off.

"What? Do my job right?" she said in a somewhat accusatory voice. She softened when she saw a muscle in Sam's face flinch at her tone. "Partly, yeah. I mean, if he hadn't had such a damn conscience, he might have, you know..." she shrugged, trying to figure out what to say. The hurt in her eyes made him hurt. It was a weird sensation for him, to feel sympathy for a coworker.

Andy tried to blink back tears. She had come too far to show weakness in front of her training officer. He would for sure hold it against her in the future. There wasn't anything she could do though, as a single tear slid down her face. She wiped it away angrily, and blinked her eyes shut to prevent any more tears from falling. _Crying is a weakness_, her father used to say. He had shown no sympathy or understanding whenever she had fallen down and hurt herself or had gotten in a fight with a past boyfriend. That was why she semi-jumped when she felt something touch her cheek.

She opened her eyes to find Sam standing very, very close to her, his hand cupping her cheek. His thumb gently stroked her skin.

"McNally," he said huskily, with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Andy didn't dare breathe, lest the moment pass. He lowered his face slowly to hers, his eyelashes skimming hers. She closed her eyes, her heart beat faster -

"McNally, have you seen Swarek? I need to find out if..." Dov broke off his sentence as he took in the scene before him. "Um, never mind. I found him," he said awkwardly. Sam and Andy jumped apart. Andy's cheek felt like it was on fire, and Sam's fingers were oddly tingly. Sam turned around to face the bemused rookie.

"Epstein, what the hell are you doing here? This is a women's locker room," Sam said brusquely. Dov opened his mouth to make a snarky comment about him being in the locker room as well, but he bit it back.

"Yes sir, sorry sir. Um, Chief Boyko just wants to see you sir." Dov winced as Sam glowered at him.

"McNally, meet me by the car in five minutes," Sam ordered as he strode out of the room, leaving a very embarrassed Andy and a very curious Dov. He raised an eyebrow and waggled it at her.

"Damn, McNally, you really are rock-and-roll, aren't you?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys!_

_Here's the second chapter. Hope you all like it! _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue. (sorely wish I did though)

* * *

_

Andy collapsed on the couch, too exhausted to even make it to her bedroom. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to stay awake. The nightmares had been reoccurring ever since she had shared Connor's story with Sam two weeks ago.

Her tiredness eventually overtook her, as she slipped into the murky unconsciousness of sleep.

_"Come on McNally, you can do better than that!" Connor teased as he made another uncontested layup._

_"Unlike some people, I prefer not to cheat to win," she retorted back, elbowing him in between his ribs. She grabbed the ball from his hands. "My turn," she said. She faked a shot, going around him, and pulled up to hit a bank shot. _

_"Oh, wow. I stand corrected. What is it now, eleven to one? You're coming back McNally. Five more hours and this thing could be tied!" he said, faking astonishment. _

Andy knew what was coming next. She had had this dream many times before, and it always followed the same pattern. She couldn't wake herself up.

_"Damn it Connor! I thought we were going to the movies," she whined as he took a left turn down a dark alley._

_"We are. This is just a shortcut. Quit your whining already," he said, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel._

_"Why don't we just go the normal route?" she insisted._

_"Did you see the massive traffic jam on 145th? We'd never make it in time for the previews."_

_"Since when did you start caring about the previews?" she asked, crossing her arms._

_"I don't. I know you do though," he answered, looking over at her. His eyes registered her look of horror as she gazed out of the windshield._

_"Connor, look out!" she cried, pointing to two dark figures hunched over in the middle of the street. He slammed on the brakes._

_"What the - " he started, then realized what was taking place in front of them. "Stay here," he ordered, getting out of the car. Andy started protesting, but he cut her off. "Stay here! Do you hear me?" _

_He started running towards the crime that was taking place. Andy looked on in shock as she watched her cousin run over to the man and pulled him off the woman, who took off running past the car. Andy saw tears running down her face. Her attention was abruptly brought back to the two men in front of her when she heard a gunshot. Connor fell backwards. Andy could hear herself screaming. The man who had fired the gun turned his head at the sound of her shouts. His face became illuminated by the car lights. Andy's screams were cut off mid-way.  
_

_He didn't have a face._

Andy bolted upright right as her door crashed down. She screamed as a dark figure fell through her now empty doorway. She grabbed her gun that was laying on the floor next to her bag and aimed it at the person.

"Don't move or I swear I'll pull this trigger!" she yelled. The person, who had momentarily been laying on her floor, hesitantly got up and raised his hands.

"Jesus, Andy, don't shoot me!" the person said. The all too-familiar voice made Andy lower her gun. She started to cry.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing here?" she said between shaky sobs. The tall cop walked towards her warily.

"Andy, put the gun down," he said in a soothing, though cautious voice. Andy looked down at her hands and realized what she was holding. She switched the safety back on and dropped the weapon onto the floor. Once it had hit the ground, Sam rushed over to her, pulling her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest, her body racked with sobs.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay. I'm here, everything's fine," Sam murmured into her hair, stroking her head softly. Andy's cries eventually subsided, and she pulled her head away from Sam's now damp shirt.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again, looking up at her training officer, who, she noted somewhat subconsciously, had some sort of debris in his hair.

"I heard screaming coming from inside, and I thought...I thought..." he didn't finish his sentence, instead pulling his rookie closer to him. She rested her head against his chest again, neither one of them remembering or caring about a certain set of rules. She let out a shaky breath.

"I was screaming?" she asked, half embarrassed.

"Yeah, like a bloody banshee. What the hell happened?" he asked, scanning the room for any possible signs of intruders or dangers, cursing inwardly for not doing that sooner.

"How did you get into my apartment?" she asked, averting the question.

"Your landlord let me up. I said I was your boyfriend."

"And he just let you up?"

"Well, that, and I showed him my badge," he admitted. "So what happen-"

"Why did you even come here?" she asked, cutting him off.

"You left your cell in Shaw's car; I told him I'd bring it to you. Thought you might need it before tomorrow morning." He untangled himself from Andy, both of them somewhat unwilling to part. He dug out the black phone from the back pocket of his jeans. Andy's brow furrowed.

"And you thought coming here at - " she checked the clock on the wall, "two in the morning would be a better idea?" Sam gave a half shrug.

"Yeah, well you know, I was coming home from The Penny, and it was on my way." Andy's eyes narrowed. She had thought his house was in the opposite direction. Or maybe she was confused because she was still running high on the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Either way, who was she to argue with her training officer?

"So, are you alright?" he asked, with a concerned expression on his face. He scanned her up and down for any signs of injury or trauma.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Andy replied, rubbing her eyes.

"So you just thought it would be fun to yell at the top of your lungs and give everyone a heart attack?"Andy looked away from his dark eyes.

"I had a nightmare. It's no big deal," she muttered, running her foot over a patch of carpet. Sam frowned.

"It must have been some nightmare to have you screaming like that," he said. Andy sighed and looked back up at him. "So you gonna tell me what it was about?"

"No. Thank you for bringing me my phone. I'm sorry to have scared you like that," she replied, pushing back her hair. She bit her lip, really wanting him to leave. Sam took a step towards her.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked.

"No."

"Too bad." He smirked. Andy rolled her eyes as he made his way to her kitchen.

"Sam, it's fine. Really, just go," she pleaded, following him. He turned around to face her.

"Do you really think I'm going to leave a woman, my rookie, no less, all by herself, at two in the morning, with a busted down door?" he asked. Andy stared at him, her jaw set. He sighed and walked towards her. "Andy, I'm not leaving you," he said in a softer tone, placing his hands on her shoulders. His unusual softness made Andy smile despite herself. He smiled back.

"Now," he asked. "Do you have any beer?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys!_

_First off, thank you so so so much for all the great reviews! You are all so amazing and wonderful and love you all! You're seriously my inspiration!  
_

_So here's the third chapter...much lighter in tone than the last chapter. I feel like I'm seesawing between light and dark, so tell me if you're getting whiplash. _

_Anyways, please review! And hope you all enjoy! =)

* * *

_

"Here you go, Officer McNally, one double shot caramel cappuccino," Sam said as he handed over the piping hot coffee. Andy took a sip and moaned in pleasure.

"Oh my god sir, thank you so much," she said, her voice unintentionally husky from the liquid. Sam bit his lip and forced himself to look elsewhere. He took a sip of his own as he started to drive away from the coffee shop.

"I have no idea how you drink that flavored crap, McNally. It doesn't even smell like coffee, let alone taste like it," he teased, glancing over at his rookie. She looked considerably better than she had last night.

"Sir, not everyone can drink something so bitter it makes your tongue curl," she shot back, grinning as she took another drink.

"Damn, McNally, if you can't drink black coffee then you have no business being a cop in the first place."

"That's your fault, Sam. You're my training officer, your supposed to be teaching me everything you know about this job, and apparently you've failed in this area."

"No, you're too far gone for me to help you now."

Andy was secretly relieved that they could still carry on their same witty conversations. She had been half-fearful that after last night, things would be extremely awkward between them. Apparently that was not the case. Still, it had been kind of unsettling - in a good _and_ bad way - to wake up lying across Sam's lap, since she could have sworn she had fallen asleep on the opposite side of the couch, _away_ from Sam. Thankfully, he had still been asleep, allowing her to quietly get out of her somewhat compromising position.

The car went over a small divot in the road, causing Andy to almost spill her drink.

"Damn it, McNally, you spill that in this car, and I will shoot you," Sam growled. Andy had to laugh at his silly protectiveness over his car.

"It's no wonder you don't have a girlfriend. It's obvious this baby here will always have your undivided attention."

"You're damn right."

Sam glanced over at her. He was, against all odds, happy to have her in his car. Even though she was a walking liability and would most likely spill her entire coffee by the time they got to the Barn. The sun glinted off her hair. He remembered, with a slight twinge of anxiety, how he had woken up and found her head across his legs. He had stroked her hair gently, and found himself smiling at the adorable expression on her face as she slept.

It had been a stupid thing to do, in retrospect, because it had woken her up, and Sam wasn't sure why he would do such a thing; he wasn't sure he wanted to _think_ about why he had done such a thing. He decided to chalk it up to the first groggy moments of being awake. That way, he didn't have to think about their...situation.

_What situation?_ he asked himself crossly. _She needed my help and I was there for her. It's what training officers do. _

They pulled into the parking lot, just ahead of Dov and Chris. Andy unbuckled her seat belt and grabbed her bag from the backseat.

"Sir?" she said quietly. "Thanks again for last night. You really didn't need to stay, but...I'm glad you did." She looked down at her hands. Sam laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Andy," he said. She looked up at him, surprised at the usage of her first name. He continued. "I'm here for you, you know that, right? Last night wasn't just a one-time thing. You need anything, you just ask, okay? I mean it." He said it with such conviction that Andy was taken aback. She blinked several times.

"Thank you sir," she said. He glanced down at her lips, his grip tightening momentarily before he took his hand away. Just like it had been in the locker room, the skin where he had touched her burned. Obviously today hadn't been such a smart idea to wear a tank top.

They got out of his truck and started heading towards the door. Sam took her bag and slung it over his shoulder. Andy smiled at him.

"You know, I do need to have my door fixed, since _someone_ kicked it down. Somehow I feel like the garbage bags we put up won't hold out unwelcome guests. Although a door didn't really stop you now, did it?"

Sam held up his hands in protest. "Hey come on, how can I be unwelcome? And I bought you coffee this morning. I think we're even."

"Seriously? Coffee does not make up for a busted door, not even close," she scoffed.

Sam sighed in mock resignation. "Fine. When should I come over to fix it?"

* * *

_Twelve hours later_

Andy took off her uniform, her tank top coming off with the bulky navy blue material.

"McNally!" a male voice hissed from behind her. She whirled around.

"Damn it Dov! Don't look!" she cried, quickly grabbing a baggy shirt and holding it in front of her, covering her bra.

"Come on, McNally, you're like my sister."

"Exactly, you idiot, which makes this that much more awkward," she hissed right back. "Turn around so I can change," she said, motioning for him to turn. Dov sighed in protest but obeyed. Andy pulled the shirt over her head. "Okay, fine. What do you want?"

Dov turned back around and waltzed into the women's locker room. He leaned against Andy's open locker, staring at her with a wolfish, gleeful expression.

Andy glared at him. "What?"

Dov cleared his throat, as if to get ready to make a speech. He put his hands together. "Andy, I have used my incredible detective and observational skills to discover something quite remarkable. It involves you. And Swarek."

"Okay, Sherlock, what big mystery have you uncovered? Because as far as it goes with me and him, there is nothing."

"Then why was Swarek wearing exactly the same shirt as he was yesterday, and why was he driving you to work today? Traci always drives you. Also, I saw that intense moment between you two in the truck before you got out. Don't tell me nothing is going on, because my parents told me to never trust a cop."

"You're a cop Epstein," Andy said, stating the obvious.

"Seriously though, are you two, you know, _doing_ it?" Dov whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. Andy whipped him with the shirt in her hand.

"No, you moron!"

"Oh come on McNally, you two are like the king and queen of sexual tension. I could cut it with a knife. And like a very wise man once said, 'men and women can't be friends, the sex part always gets in the way'."

"Did you seriously just quote _When Harry Met Sally?_"

"McNally, I...Epstein, what the hell did I tell you about being in the women's locker room?" Sam said, striding into the room but stopping short at the sight of the male rookie.

"Sir, I - " Dov was cut off.

"Look, Jerry needs me, and I'm late, so save me the explanation. McNally, does ten sound good? It'll be a bit late, but it shouldn't take too long."

"Sir?" Andy asked, momentarily confused.

Sam gave her a pointed look. "I'm fixing your door, remember? See you around ten," he said, hurriedly exiting the locker room. Dov looked back at Andy with a smug expression.

"That's your code for sex, isn't it?"


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey guys! Thanks so, so, so much for all your wonderful feedback! I smile every time I get a new review! You are all so amazing, and are seriously my inspiration._

_Here's the fourth chapter - kind of a more serious addition in contrast to the last chapter...again, sorry if you're getting whiplash._

_Anyways, hope you all enjoy! =)

* * *

_

Andy groaned as Sam placed another stack of paper in front of her.

"Seriously, sir? How many more bank statements do we have to go through before Boyko realizes this is a total waste of time?" she asked, exasperated.

Sam shrugged as he sat down opposite his rookie. "Look McNally, we do what Boyko says until he tells us to stop. That's just the way it goes."

Andy gave him a pointed look. "That doesn't mean I have to like doing - this," she said, throwing a disgusted glance towards the four large stacks of various information.

"Hmm," Sam made a noncommittal sound as he scanned a half sheet of green paper.

They sat in silence for another five minutes until Andy couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going to get some more coffee. You want some?" she asked, standing up from her chair. Sam looked at her.

"Yeah sure. This time, try not to spill half of it on your way back," he teased. A loud voice from across the room caught their attention.

"Look man, I'm telling you, I ain't got nothing to do with this!" a large man shouted, struggling against the handcuffs Officer Williams had placed on him.

"Oh, shut up," she said, forcing him towards booking.

"You shut up bitch!" he answered. "Ow, ow, okay, take it easy lady," he continued, in a much more subdued voice as Noelle yanked his handcuffs tighter.

The expression on his face changed as he looked in the direction of Sam and Andy. His grimace turned to shock, then to a peculiar baring of teeth. Then Williams shoved him into the booking room and he disappeared from sight.

"Damn, that's the nastiest smile I've ever seen," Sam said, looking at Andy to add a snide comment to his.

"McNally?"he asked, noticing the death grip she had on the edge of the desk.

She couldn't breathe. All she could hear was the blood coursing through her body, courtesy of her thudding heartbeat. Her eyes started rolling towards the back of her head.

"McNally? McNally...Andy!" He bolted up from his seat as she suddenly collapsed.

The last thing she saw was the man's face. The face that had been blocked out of her mind...until now.

It was him.

* * *

"Andy...Andy, wake up. Wake up." Sam's voice and touch gradually brought Andy back. Her eyelids fluttered open, taking in the somewhat fuzzy images of the police officers that were standing around her.

Sam's first feeling was relief as he saw her dark eyes reappear, though her ashen complexion gave him pause.

"Sam," she whispered hoarsely, her guard momentarily down as she forgot to address him properly in a roomful of her colleagues.

"Are you alright?" he asked, the worry evident in his eyes. "What happened?"

Andy blinked. Her chest rose and fell several times before she could speak again, trying to regain composure of herself.

"I'm fine. Um, I haven't eaten much of anything today, that's all. You know how I get when my blood sugar's low." It was an outright lie, and Andy could only hope that it wasn't written all over her face. Most of the officers seemed to accept her explanation, several nodding their heads in understanding. Sam narrowed his eyes at her, and she instantly knew she had been caught. She only hoped that he wouldn't make a scene in front of everyone.

"Alright, everyone, give her some space. Let's get you some food, okay McNally?" Andy instantly recognized the tone of Sam's voice. It was the same one he used when talking to potential suspects, the 'I'm going to treat you nicely but don't you dare lie to me' voice. She had heard it many times, but had never thought he would use it on her. Right now though, she was too weak to argue or resist him as he lifted her up and led her outside, never letting go of her hand.

They stepped outside of the building, the warm sun a welcome feeling on her cold skin, though it was no competition for the tingling sensations that were currently being shot through her hand like lightning bolts.

"Sam, I thought we were going to get some food. My blood sugar needs saving," she said, frowning, desperately trying to avoid the conversation that was unavoidable.

"Don't bullshit me, McNally. Who was that guy?" Sam asked, his voice dangerously low.

"What guy?" she asked, her eyes shifting every which way to avoid Sam's gaze.

"Damn it, Andy. I thought we had already gone over this. You know I'm here for you. So why don't you use me?" he growled, his voice trailing off towards the end. Andy met his eyes for a brief second, then looked away again. Sam sighed.

"Look at me. Andy, look at me." She reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet his, her heart skipping a beat as she read his expression. "I know you keep things close to the vest. That's just how you are, and I get that. But sooner or later, you are going to come across something that you can't handle by yourself. And when that happens, you will explode. That won't be pretty, and you will lose control, and do something you'll regret."

His fingers flickered across the back of her hand that he still held. "You need to talk to someone. It doesn't have to be me, but something happened between you and that man, and it's going to eat at you from the inside out until there's nothing left."

Andy just stared at him. That was the longest speech she had ever heard him say outside the briefing room. She couldn't say anything as she looked in his eyes. There were a myriad of emotions in his dark orbs, and she was afraid to look away.

He took a step closer to her. He swallowed as he let go of her hand. Andy was afraid she had made him angry by not replying, but then he gently swept back the stray strand of hair that had fallen in her face. He tucked it behind her ear, letting his fingers trail down the edge of her jaw.

"Sam," she whispered, not trusting her voice to go any louder. "I can't - I can't..." her voice broke as the tears began to fall. Sam pulled her close to him, and she fell into him, her chest heaving as the image of _his_ face appeared on her shut eyelids. All those nights she had dreamed of the faceless attacker, her subconscious unwilling to remember the most crucial piece of information. And now, after five years, fate had thrown her under the bridge to drown in the murky waters of crimes past, but not forgotten.

"It was him," she choked out, shuddering. Sam's arms tightened around her. "It's him. He killed Connor."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! I'm currently working on the fifth chapter, so reviews are always good so I know how to continue my story._

_ Tell me what you think of this, I love feedback! xx  
_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys! Here's the fifth chapter. It's a bit longer, and a lot darker. I tried to lighten it up a bit, but I was in a dark mood when I was writing this, and clearly it shows._

_Anyways, tell me what you all think! Please review...I live for them! Thanks! =)

* * *

_

_"It was him," she choked out, shuddering. Sam's arms tightened around her. "It's him. He killed Connor."_

_

* * *

_

Andy stayed in Sam's arms for an indefinite amount of time. All she knew was that she never wanted to leave his strong embrace. Though she knew it was naive and foolish, she somehow felt that nothing could find or hurt her when he was holding her.

Sam was struggling inwardly. The feeling of Andy in his arms, with her intoxicating smell completely filling his senses, was making it difficult to focus on what exactly was happening. In fact, he didn't really know what _was_ exactly happening. His hands moved on their own accord, gently rubbing small circles on her back, trying to calm her. His mind tried to comprehend the situation. How exactly had this man, whoever he was, end up at the 15th Division precinct? He felt Andy shift as she lifted her head from his shoulders.

"Sam..." she faltered, her voice failing her momentarily. "Sam, what is he doing here?"

She swallowed, tensing briefly as Sam raised a hand to her face. His fingers brushed away the tears that remained on her face. Her cheeks became inflamed at his gentle caresses, but couldn't bring herself to care. She was aware of a certain cold, quiet rage that was beginning to slowly take over her. The events of five years past were trenched up to the surface of her consciousness, no longer contained to the subconsciousness of her dreams. For a second, she wondered if this actually _was_ a dream, biting her tongue hard. Pain overwhelmed her sensory nerves. She clenched her jaw, realizing she wasn't dreaming. You didn't feel pain in dreams. This was actually happening.

She raised her eyes to Sam's. He was momentarily overwhelmed at the despair and sorrow he saw.

"I don't know. I don't know, Andy, but I'll find out. I promise," he said softly. He meant to keep his promise, but he needed to take care of his rookie first. He gently, but firmly, took her by the arm and guided her back inside, making sure to avoid the booking area by a wide margin.

They walked towards the Staff Sergeant's office. Sam entered, not bothering to knock.

"Best - _sir_, I need to talk to you. Actually, we both do," he said, pulling Andy alongside him, though he knew he would probably be doing most of the talking. He removed his hand from her arm, not wanting to give the new boss any reason to separate them.

"Officer Swarek, Officer McNally," Best nodded to both of them, motioning them to step in further. He walked behind them, shutting the door.

Andy heard them speaking, but didn't actually _listen_ to what they were saying. Her eyelids felt heavy; her mouth was dry. She blinked slowly, opening her mouth to add something to the conversation several times, but didn't know what to say. The cold rage was beginning to seep into her again. Half of her, the passionate, rash side, wanted to go into the holding cell, turn off the cameras, lock the door, and do horrible, unspeakable things to the faceless man who now had a face.

Her other half, the rational, cool side, was a bit harder to understand. She seemed to be hearing voices. Her father's. Sam's. Connor's.

She had no idea which one to listen to.

* * *

"Hey, sweetie, where do you keep you sheets?" Traci's voice rang hollow in Andy's ears, but the noise snapped her out of the black haze that had threatened to envelope her. She glanced up at her best friend, who was looking at her with a concerned, though bemused, expression.

"Honestly, Traci, you don't have to stay with me."

Traci raised an eyebrow at her. "And have Swarek chew me out tomorrow for leaving you alone? Besides, you're my best friend. I'm not going leave you to do something stupid."

Andy looked down at her hands, rubbing her palms together. Sam had basically manhandled her home after the incident, ordering Traci to stay with her for the night. And Traci was right - she would most likely do something stupid.

She just didn't want anyone to be around when she did.

* * *

Sam slammed his fist down on his desk, sending papers flying everywhere. He was glad that Officer Nash was with Andy for the night, but he wanted to there for her himself, not handing her off to someone else. Though he shouldn't really want to be there for her. He was painfully aware of how dangerously close he was to stepping over the clearly marked boundaries of training officer and rookie relationships. At the moment, though, he didn't really care.

Sighing, he picked up the scattered papers and tried to calm himself enough to refocus on the case at hand.

Apparently, Connor's murderer and Andy's nightmare was named Jamal Lincoln, age 47. He had a pretty long rap sheet that boasted an impressive array of petty criminal activities, but nothing that screamed "murderer" or "rapist". That being said, most petty criminals eventually graduated on to larger and heavier crimes. Evidently, Jamal Lincoln was no exception.

Sam honestly didn't quite know what he was looking for. Jamal had been brought in on a drug possession charge - about an ounce of coke had been found on him courtesy of Officer Williams. The report had been filed quickly and seemed pretty straight forward - Noelle had written it up almost immediately at the incessant urging of Sam - and he was now searching for something, _anything, _that would shed some new light on the murder of Connor McNally.

He knew, deep down, that it was a fruitless and useless task. He had read the police report on the investigation into Connor's death. He knew that Andy had not been able to identify the perp - Jamal - and that he had just slipped away scotch-free on a murder charge he deserved. The detective's notes from five years ago told of Andy's inability to successfully describe the man's face to a sketch artist. They hadn't even been able to get a partial sketch.

Andy had only been nineteen.

_She wasn't even old enough to drink. She was barely a legal adult. How could she go through something like this at such a young age?_

Sam pushed himself away from the desk and stood up angrily. No amount of time spent pouring over evidence or cold cases would be able to bring justice to Connor - or to Andy.

From every angle he looked at it, he saw the unfeeling truth staring back at him.

He had failed Andy.

* * *

Andy had just walked out of the bathroom, toweling her hair that was wet from the shower, when a knock at the door made her jump. Traci got up from the couch where she was sitting and walked over to the door. She smiled at Andy.

"I hope you don't mind, but there were a couple people outside your apartment that I buzzed up who wanted to see you. They come bringing gifts," she said with a wink as she opened the door.

Chris and Dov were standing outside, each holding a bottle of liquor and a pizza box. Andy couldn't help but smile.

"You guys," she started to say, but was cut off by a hug from each of them.

"We thought you might want some company tonight, you know...considering every that happened today," Chris said, kissing the top of her head.

"You better have the same favorite pizza as you did back when we were in the Academy, because we got two extra-large vegetarian pizzas with salami, hold the anchovies," Dov said, placing down the box on the kitchen table. "And the pizza guy thought we were completely nuts when we ordered, so you better enjoy these."

"And our mini reunion wouldn't be complete without Johnny Walker and Captain Morgan, now, would it?" Chris added, placing the two bottles of scotch and rum next to the pizza.

Andy was completely stunned by her friends. She had wanted to be alone tonight, to drown in the blackness of her misery and despair. Now, not only did the three throw her a life jacket, but they had hoisted her up onto the ship and took her to Barbados.

She was vaguely aware how crazy that analogy sounded. She knew she was headed towards insanity, but perhaps she could hold on for one more night.

"I love you guys," she said, hugging them. "You are all so amazing."

"We couldn't let you be all by yourself. You're our sister in uniform," Chris said.

"Not only that, but our sister from another mister," Dov added, opening up the bottle of scotch. Andy raised an eyebrow at him.

Chris grimaced. "You can tell Dov has already had the company of Johnny and the Captain tonight," he offered. They all laughed as Dov cheerfully lifted the bottle in the air.

* * *

Sam sat at the bar, one of the few left, considering the hour of the night.

He nursed his drink, mulling over everything and nothing. Wherever his mind wandered, he always seemed to come back to his rookie.

He clenched his jaw. He didn't want to think about her. He could only see the raw pain in her eyes when he pictured her. Of course, he saw other, more wonderful things when he thought of Andy, but at the moment, her pain was the majority of what he saw.

He only wished he could take it away for her.

* * *

Andy sat on the couch, the almost empty bottle of rum in her hands. She was trembling uncontrollably. The darkness of the room only intensified the darkness in her soul. She glanced over at the three sleeping bodies laying around her. The TV was silent, an eerie shade of blue, the movie they had been watching long over.

She took another long drink from the bottle. She wasn't aware of the twitching of her knee.

Faces flashed past her eyes. Connor. The faceless man. Connor. Her father. Connor. Her mother. Connor. The woman from the alley who he had saved. Connor.

Another face surfaced. Sam.

Her heart, already thudding, took off wildly at the thought of him. The image of his face, his dark eyes that held such emotion in them, brought a strange sense of peace to her that somewhat quieted her.

She brought the bottle back up to her lips, tilting it back. Nothing came out. She startlingly realized it was empty.

She was drunk. She realized that, fully accepted the fact. But the image of Sam's face had become the backdrop to the slide show of faces that were playing in her head, some welcome, most not. But Sam was always there, in the background.

She was drunk. And, like her father, she was a dangerous, foolish drunk. She got up from the couch and walked out of the apartment, forgetting to lock the door behind her.

She realized that the empty bottle of liquor was still in her hand. She threw it against the sidewalk, the sound of smashing glass an odd symphony to her ears.

She didn't logically know where he was at the moment, but somehow she knew. It was a gut feeling. _Appropriate,_ she thought, _since he's always telling me to trust my gut.

* * *

_

She walked into the Penny, and sure enough, there he was, sitting at the bar, all alone in the whole room save for the bartender, who was getting ready to close down for the night.

"Sam," she said, unsteadily walking towards him. He turned around, surprised to hear her voice.

"Andy," he said warily. He wasn't exactly sure what she was doing here, but he was at once both strangely exhilarated and oddly uneasy to see her. "What are you doing here?"

She didn't respond, instead stepping between his legs that were hanging from the bar stool. She grabbed his shirt, pulling herself closer, and kissed him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey guys!_

_So I'm actually pretty disappointed at the way I wrote the last chapter. I let my emotions during that time get the better of me, and while that's a great thing when writing a one-shot, it's not such a good thing when writing a continuing story._

_I've been really quite stuck on where to take this story, so I decided that before I mess it up any more, I would end it. So this is the last chapter. I'm quite happy with the way it turned out, against all odds.  
_

_Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it! Please review, I live for them! And thanks for putting up with the extremely long wait between the last chapter and this one. All the reviews, all the favorite stories and alerts you guys have done for this story have meant so much to me. I am truly, truly grateful for all your support._

_Enjoy! xx

* * *

_

At first, the sensation of her lips against his took Sam off guard. After a second of hesitation, he kissed her back, taking a hold of her waist. He pulled her into him, tangling a hand in her long hair. She clung to his shirt, her fingers splayed across the material. The alcohol that had been consumed by both of them mingled with their kisses, creating a heady taste that neither one of them wanted to end.

As fantastic as it was, Sam soon realized that her kisses were too hungry, too needy. They weren't romantic, they were desperate. Even though he was drunk himself, he couldn't bring himself to take advantage of this situation, as much as he wanted to. He gently withdrew from her embrace and took her by the shoulders, pushing her back slightly.

He could see she had been crying. He glanced down at her hands, and noticed a deep red stain in her right palm.

"Andy, you're bleeding," he said, taking her hand. He inspected it, seeing an ugly gash that went deep. "You're going to need stitches. What happ..." He trailed off as he looked back up at her. She was drawing in ragged, uneven breaths as the tears slid down her face.

"Andy, Andy, shh, it's okay...I'm here...don't cry." He drew her close to him, half aware that he had held her more times in the past month than he had in the previous seven.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whispered, her body shuddering uncontrollably against his.

"It's okay." He didn't know what she was apologizing for, but the less words he spoke, the better. They stayed like that for a little while longer. Eventually, Andy pulled away. She looked at Sam.

"You wanna talk?" he asked. She hesitated for a moment. She couldn't keep it inside any longer. There was no where else to run to...except to Sam. She nodded.

"Okay. You wanna go get some coffee?" he asked. They didn't need any more alcohol, that much was certain.

"Sure," she whispered hoarsely.

They made their way outside, Sam carefully guiding Andy towards his truck. He gently lifted her up, handling her like a fragile doll, setting her down on the hood.

"Stay here," he ordered, disappearing into the interior before quickly emerging with a first aid kit. He took out disinfectant and gauze. The cut wasn't as deep as he had thought it had been at first glance.

"You going to tell me how you cut yourself?" he asked, as he slowly, gently, began cleaning her wound. She winced at the stinging sensation caused by the disinfectant.

"I don't know. I don't - " She began hyperventilating, overcome by the raging emotions inside her.

"Shh, calm down. Everything's fine." He applied a thick ointment over the jagged cut. Silence ensued. He looked back up at her. "I'm all ears Andy. Whenever you want to start."

She realized he was waiting for her to speak. About what though? He knew Connor's story. He no doubt had read the case file, so he knew all the particulars of what had happened. Of how she had failed. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to prevent more tears from falling. Would she ever stop crying?

"I couldn't bring him justice. I couldn't bring him closure." She was talking barely above a whisper, and Sam had to strain to hear her. He began wrapping her hand with the white gauze. "I had one thing to do - identify him - and I couldn't do that." She choked back a sob.

"Andy, it's not your fault. You know that, right? You didn't kill Connor." Sam was using his calming voice he used on traumatized victims, because he honestly didn't know how else to deal with what was happening.

"I should have stopped him from getting out of the car! I should have ran after the guy. I should have done something different. Anything different. Something different..." she started to repeat herself, murmuring too softly for Sam to catch her words. He finished wrapping her wound, taking his now free hand and bringing it to her chin. He tilted her face towards his.

"Andy, look at me. This isn't helping. Beating yourself up isn't going to bring your cousin back. You need to stop feeling guilty. It's not healthy. Would Connor want you to feel like this, to act this way? No, he would want you to live your life. To save people who can't save themselves, like he did. And you're doing that. That's why you became a cop."

Sam realized her breathing had slowed down and become more steady. "He would be proud of you, Andy. You're carrying on his legacy." He stopped talking as a small smile came over her features.

"Do you realize you're using your victim advocacy voice on me?" she asked with a shaky laugh. He smiled back at her.

"Well, this whole comforting someone while off-duty is something new to me. I'm not getting paid, for one." He winked to let her know he was kidding.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. How about that coffee?"

She shook her head, her eyelids suddenly becoming heavy. "I'm really tired. I just want to go home and go to sleep. Besides, if they wake up and I'm gone, it's going to be hell."

"They? Who else is over at your house? The entire precinct?"

She tried to smile, but a yawn escaped instead. "Just Dov and Chris. And Traci, whom you put on watch. What did you think I was going to do, kill myself?"

All traces of smile disappeared from Sam's face. "You're in a bad place, Andy. I mean, just look at you now. I didn't want anything to happen to you." His frankness surprised both himself and her. A silence settled that wasn't entirely awkward.

"Come on. Let's get you home," he said, breaking the stillness of the night. He took her non-injured hand and helped her into the truck.

The drive was quick. They drove in silence, Andy trying to fight off sleep for a little while longer; Sam trying to think of an encouraging thought to give her.

He pulled up to her apartment and put the truck in park. They looked at each other, each struggling to say the right thing.

"Thanks Sam. For everything." It was the only thing that seemed appropriate to her.

"You're welcome. You need anything, you come to me. Anytime."

He looked so sincere that Andy couldn't help but lean over and kiss him on the cheek. His eyes widened slightly as her lips grazed his stubble. She got out of the car. Sam watched her until she disappeared into the building before driving off, a smile playing on his features.

She was glad that in her previous break down, she had forgotten to lock the door. She quietly slipped in, stepping over the still-sleeping bodies until she found her previous position between Dov and Traci.

She was just laying down when a voice broke the quiet.

"You go to see Swarek?" Traci said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine. I'm sorry I woke you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay sweetie. Wake me if you need anything."

"Alright."

As Traci drifted back to sleep, Andy was struck by the truth in her words. Everything _was_ fine. It wasn't fair, it wasn't just, and it wasn't perfect. But somehow, in the span of two hours, she had gone from drowning in her darkest place to feeling somewhat normal. All because of one conversation with him.

And with that thought, she too drifted off to sleep, a smile on her face. For the first time in over a month, no nightmares came.

* * *

_**One month later.**_

"Hey buddy," Andy said as she placed the daffodils beneath the gray headstone. "Sorry I haven't been here in a while. Things have been...crazy."

She thought back to the events that had unfolded after that night with Sam. Jamal Lincoln was never charged with the murder of Connor McNally, or the attempted rape of the unknown woman. But he had been sent back to prison for breaking his parole with the ounce of coke. Apparently he had disrespected a prominent gang member while incarcerated. Andy didn't know the details and didn't want to. All she knew was that Jamal was no longer among the living.

She had come to terms with Connor's death. Instead of burying what had happened deep inside, like she had five years ago, she had dealt with it openly. She had seen a psychiatrist for a little while, and while that had helped, the vast amounts of time she had spent at the firing range had been a more successful therapeutic route.

"I'd like to think you're proud of me," she whispered, tracing the engraved name with her fingers. "I really hope you are."

She didn't say much more, instead just sitting by his grave, lost in thought, tracing and retracing the name.

After a while, she rose back up. "Bye Connor," she said, touching the tombstone for a final time. "I'll come again soon."

She walked back across the cemetery to where a silver truck was parked. A man was leaning up against it, his arms crossed. As she approached, he straightened up.

"You okay?" Sam asked, closing the space between them. She smiled up at him.

"Yeah. I'm perfect." She kissed him softly, blushing slightly as he moaned and drew her closer, deepening the kiss.

"It's been one week, McNally. Where would you like to go for our anniversary?" He grinned down at her, gently stroking her cheek.

"How about your place?" she said coyly, taking his hand in hers.

"I like the sound of that." They got in the car, Sam driving slowly until they got out of the cemetery, where he applied the gas liberally.

Gold and red leaves fell from the maple tree above Connor's grave, signaling the changing seasons. A stirring wind rustled the daffodils at the foot of the tombstone.

Winter was coming. A new season, a new chapter of life.

Just the way Connor had always liked it.


End file.
